


Warmer Climate

by sleeponrooftops



Series: Snow Patrol Project [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-23
Updated: 2011-01-23
Packaged: 2017-10-31 08:03:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/341804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleeponrooftops/pseuds/sleeponrooftops
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Ginny,” a voice says from my right, and I have to close my eyes for a moment before I can turn, before I can register him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warmer Climate

_The universe just vanished out of sight,_

_And all the stars collapsed behind the pitch black night,_

_And I can barely see your face in front of mine,_

_But it is knowing you are there that makes me fine._

It’s over.

 

This thought comes to me in a blur of sights and sounds, and I can barely breathe.  Everyone around me, all those that I have loved, are either dead or their lights have gone out.  My brother is lying on the floor with George bent over him, a sight I never thought I’d see.  I mean, it’s Fred.  How is that even possible?  Even from here, on the other side of the Great Hall, I can see the shake of his shoulders, the dim of his eyes, the loss of his soul.  His heart will be forever broken, a piece of him gone into another world.

 

And it’s over.

 

Just like that, it’s over, and Tom is lying spread eagle on the ground for everyone to see, _dead_.  He’s dead.  He’s really, truly dead.  Everytime someone used to talk about him (which was often, granted), I always got one little shiver down my spine, and I would have to close my eyes and take a deep breath.  I’ll always remember how entrancing his eyes were, how keen I was to obey him in my first year.  It still scares me, that he had so much power, just in a small little journal, a memory left behind.  Even now, seeing him on the ground, with his light completely extinguished, I still feel a little afraid, a little pull toward him.

 

But then there’s Harry.  I hated this year without him, how every moment felt like agony, not knowing where he was or if he was still alive.  I used to sit up late into the night, sometimes early into the morning, listening to the radio, hoping, praying that I wouldn’t hear his name on the list, that I wouldn’t be the one to find the last broadcast announcing his death.  So many times, I’d wake up in a panic, drenched in sweat, panting, his face flashing before my eyes, _gone_.

 

“Ginny,” a voice says from my right, and I have to close my eyes for a moment before I can turn, before I can register him.

 

His face is dirty, and a smear of blood marks his cheek.  His clothes are torn, and he looks disheveled.  His breath comes short, and his wand hangs limply by his side.  Harry, our saving grace, and he’s all mine.  I blink, not really sure if I’m seeing right.  It’s still a shock, to see him there, really there.  Only moments before, he was dead, a light doused out, the only light that could save us.

 

Seeing Hagrid walk up with him in his arms nearly brought me to my knees, begging for the end.  I couldn’t believe it, _wouldn’t_ believe it.  My Harry, dead.

 

But then, in one sudden movement, he was there, and Tom was gone.  I’m still mulling over how he did it, how it all happened.  He died.  We know he did.  And yet, he’s Harry, and he’s here, alive.

 

“Ginny,” he says again, reaching forward.

 

This time, I react, stumbling toward him.  He’s only a few feet away, and I let go as his arms wrap around me, and he sighs into me, relief washing over him.

 

“I didn’t see you at first,” he admits, cold tears dropping onto my neck as I sob into his chest, holding onto him as if I’ll never let go, “I thought I’d never see you again.”

 

I can’t speak to him because, if I do, I’ll just let loose, scream at him for everything he’s put me through, love him for all that he’s given me.  I always feel like I’m on a tightrope with Harry, something I’ve always hated, always loved.

 

“You should hate me, Ginny.  You should never want to touch or see or love me again.”

 

He’s so right.  He’s always been right, goddamn him.

 

“But I never want to let go of you.  Ginny,” he sighs again, squeezing me tighter.

 

I’m suddenly acutely aware of George’s sobs, and I’ll never know why it came to me in that moment, so abruptly.  I push away from Harry, my gaze already swiveling to that of my family, where my mother falls to her knees and _screams_.  I take one staggering step toward them, stop as Harry’s hand envelops mine.

 

“You have no idea how much I love you,” he whispers, kissing the back of my shoulder, “If you’ll allow me, I’ll walk into the dark with you, and try my very hardest to bring you back into the light.  I will never leave your side.  I will stay forever by you, in love and in hate.  But only if you’ll allow me.”

 

“Harry,” I finally begin, turning to him, and the cacophony of sounds and sights and feelings and deaths disappear.

 

It’s just he and I, two souls broken nearly beyond repair.  Every moment spent away has been like one little death, a stab to the heart over and over again.  But I still always come back to him, how he makes me feel, how perfect I look in his eyes.  Just the way he looks at me, how deeply he cares and adores, I know that nothing, not even every catastrophe in the world could separate us.

 

“I love you,” I whisper, and my feet are firm.

 

I turn back to him, pull him to me in a beautiful, long kiss.  I want the whole world to see how much I truly do love this man, this single light that has saved all of us, that has given all of us a new hope to a different and better world, and I want them all to know that he is mine, and that we are one, two halves a whole.


End file.
